A Turk Thing
by Takebuo Ishimatsu
Summary: Tseng has made a mistake in regards to Vincent Valentine, realizing too late that the man’s moral compass points even farther south than his own. Prequel to a fic not yet written. Noncon! Not Graphic. Vincent/Tseng, Implied Reeve/Tseng & Reeve/Vincent.


**Title: **A Turk Thing

**Author: **Takebuo Ishimatsu

**Pairing(s): **Vincent/Tseng, implied Rufus/Tseng & Tseng/Reeve & Vincent/Reeve & more

**Summary: **Tseng has made a mistake in regards to Vincent Valentine, realizing too late that the man's moral compass points even farther south than his own. Sidefic to The Scoop. Noncon! Vincent/Tseng, Reeve/Tseng, Reeve/Vincent.

**Warning: **A few cuss words thrown in here and there. Not too terribly bad, I hope.

**Major Warning: **Serious non-con! NOT too graphic, though. Dark fic, but maybe a little redeeming at the end. Vincent behaving badly, for once with no Chaos involved.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

**Update 5/17/10: I've edited this a bit from the original to make it sound better, most notably the epilogue. Nothing too serious, though it now hints towards some new stuff I might mention in the sequel.**

Tseng knew it was bound to happen one of these days, practically inevitable; it'd have been a true miracle if it hadn't. Still, the knowledge didn't make the situation any more bearable, and the Wutainese man found himself seething inside.

Outwardly, he was the picture of polite civility, choosing to sit silently across from the other man while they both waited for something to happen. Whether that "something" was the eventual arrival of the engineer in question, or the departure of one their bodies, if they weren't both strewn on the floor when it was all over, wasn't yet known to either of them. Valentine was the best of the past, Tseng of the present, anything could happen.

Minutes ticked by.

Tired of waiting for an explanation, Tseng finally demanded one.

"I believe you must be losing track of time in your old age, Valentine. It's Thursday, my day to visit Reeve, if you'll recall."

He didn't bother with dancing around the subject; they both knew that he hadn't gotten confused on the day, no matter that the cloaked man appeared out of touch with reality sometimes. While the other man in their dangerous triangle had been innocently oblivious, both men sitting in the dining room had known there would come a day when they would fight for the full right to the man known as Reeve Tuesti, not content to settle for only half. The only two questions had been when, and who would walk out as the victor.

Vincent's lips twitched at the insult to his age. Physically speaking, Reeve himself was the eldest of the group, but in actual years of life, the ex-Turk was double his lover's age. He had to give Tseng his dues, only a few weeks ago he would have felt the sting of such a remark, feeling as if he was some sort of cradle robber. It was clear that the other man was trying to win with words what they both knew he couldn't with physical strength, no matter how honed his technique.

It was unfortunate for his opponent that he'd only just recently had an in-depth discussion with Cloud, of all people, about letting go of his past and going for what he wanted most, before it was too late. He supposed that Rude, again, of all people, had had quite an impact on the young blond's life if he was now the one spouting out fortune cookie-esque lines about forgiving oneself and moving on with your future. Of course, the little chocobo might have had something else to say entirely if he'd known that to get what he wanted he'd probably have to mortally wound, if not kill, his lover's boss. Vincent shrugged off the thought; if Cloud was going to get with a Turk, it was best for him to learn early on that he was rarely going to get all the information. It was a Turk thing.

"It is indeed Thursday, but I'm afraid I'll be visiting Reeve today. Perhaps you can come back at another time," he replied smoothly, red eyes bearing into brown. He was pleased to note that the other didn't look the least bit intimidated, not even his heartbeat nor breathing giving anything away. Tseng was a worthy man for Reeve; it was just too bad Vincent believed himself to be more so.

Better an ex-Turk than an active one. The man's loyalty would forever go to ShinRa first and there was no telling how the electric company and the WRO would react around each other once the former was back on its feet.

"I see, so you wish to switch days? You should've just called. Oh wait, I'd forgotten, you're not very good with technology, are you? Do you even own a phone?" Tseng's lips quirked up slightly in a polite smile. It didn't reach his eyes. They both knew that by "another time" Valentine meant "never" and now the Wutainese man was opting for pointing out the obvious lack of commonality once it'd been revealed that the other no longer minded the age difference.

"I do, but I tend to let Reeve handle such things. He seems to think it 'cute' that I don't know what an iPod is." Tseng didn't even blink though inside he was frowning. He had no way of knowing if the engineer actually did find amusement in his lover's lack of common technology knowledge or if he was in fact frustrated as all hell with Valentine. His mind quickly recalled previous events in which Reeve had given him his amused little smile whenever he'd had to ask for a favor in regards to ShinRa's new security equipment.

Damn.

As if sensing his brief moment of uncertainty, the vampire-wannabe added almost lazily, as an afterthought, "By the way, don't you already have a President to fuck?"

Tseng knew he shouldn't, it was bound to get him killed, but, sensing by the other's use of foul language that the game had just jumped a level, he responded, "Don't you already have a dead woman to pine after?"

And then things went downhill.

In the blink of an eye, literally, Vincent was up-over the dining table and behind the other. Tseng shot up and kicked his chair back into the other's legs, drawing his gun as he did so. Opting not to extract his own weapon, Vincent snapped his hand out and grabbed Tseng's gun arm. His opponent whirled around with his other fist and from there it was a close-combat dance.

Vincent had to admit after almost ten minutes of hand-to-hand, he was greatly impressed. The other wasn't Director of the Turks for nothing; he had both the mental and physical skill to do his job more than efficiently. He decided that the honorable thing to do would be to tell his adversary so, before he decided to kick his ass thoroughly.

"You are deserving of your title, Turk. You might have won, if I was normal."

With that, it was over, Vincent used the enhancements the Gaia-forsaken Hojo had given him and had the other pinned to the nearby wall within seconds.

Chest pressed painfully against the flat surface with wrists held tightly behind his back, the smaller man figured he didn't have much to lose by antagonizing his opponent. He'd already lost the physical battle for Reeve. Perhaps if Valentine broke his arm in anger, the engineer would feel sorry for him and turn away from the other.

"Really, Valentine, I was asking a simple question, no need to get angry. Does Reeve know you have such a violent temper?" Tseng asked, voice deceptively sweet. He wiggled a bit, and, as predicted, the red-clothed man held his wrists even tighter and pushed him more against the wall. Getting an idea, he smirked.

Tseng continued, "I wonder what Reeve is going to think of the bruises on my wrists? How could he ever continue to love such a person once he finds out? Even I've never raped a man before."

Unfortunately, whether it was due to Valentine's own time as a Turk, or some other odd quirk brought about by his turbulent past, the man didn't react to his implied threat quite the way he'd been hoping. Instead of releasing him and jumping away as he'd expected, the ex-Turk instead leaned in closer.

Whispering in his ear, he replied seductively, "I suppose, if you're going to tell him that anyway…" The other trailed off and the Wutainese man suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Jerking him away from the wall, Vincent literally threw the smaller man into the next room then came up behind him again and roughly dragged him to the couch. Ripping Tseng's jacket in half, the enhanced man then used the pieces to tie the other's arms together completely, from above the elbow to the wrists. It wouldn't do to have the other get loose and shoot his dick off, after all.

He started on the Turk's belt, and, as if realizing for the first time that the other really meant business, Tseng began to struggle again in earnest. Deciding that even a Turk wasn't above calling for help, and it would suck to have the Planet's second hero caught in such a vile act, Vincent removed his headband and used it as a gag for the other.

For a few short moments, the only thing running through Tseng's mind was "Shit, shit, shit, shit…" until that morphed into "Oh fucking Leviathan!" once Valentine pushed roughly into him. He scrunched his eyes together against the pain, actually glad that he'd been gagged so as to not humiliate himself with begging. He'd never been so grateful for one of Rufus' little mid-day trysts before, the blond having given him at least a minor stretching only hours before.

With Vincent not speaking, and Tseng trying desperately not to whimper, the apartment was oddly silent until finally the dominating man reached his peak and came with a soft grunt into the other. He released Tseng and quickly redid his own clothing, frowning at the blood that slowly leaked down the other's thighs. He felt oddly detached to realize he wasn't certain if he was more concerned about the other having serious internal bleeding or about the poor new coach needing to be replaced.

He felt both satisfaction and revulsion as the first thing that came to his mind, before the inevitable guilt would take hold, was that he didn't have to worry about what Reeve would say; they both knew Tseng wouldn't ever mention this nor would he seek to continue his relationship with the engineer. That had been the point of the extreme act of dominance, but now seeing the defenseless man's shaking, Vincent was wondering if hadn't made a serious mistake.

Grabbing hold of the other's hair, he pulled his head back until he could see Tseng's eyes. The ex-Turk couldn't even begin to describe the relief he felt at the murderous glare he received; the man wasn't broken. But, he was thoroughly cowed, he realized as the other practically shot off the coach when his hands dropped down to the other's arms. Gently, he held the other still while he quickly tore off his bindings, then his gag.

Tseng still didn't move once he was free and Valentine had stepped back, instead resting against the back of the coach. The worst was over; there was no need to rush away. He'd probably end up ripping himself more and bleeding to death if he tried, anyway.

"I suppose there was no need to falsify evidence after all; I've never raped anyone before, but you have," he said in an almost resigned voice, accepting what had happened without yelling or crying. It was a simple statement, a truth that didn't blame, but instead was meant to question. Question whether or not he was the only man to have suffered under "the greatest Turk ever known." The anger and hate would come later, once Tseng had had some time to distance himself from the situation.

Vincent looked down and began rummaging through his cloak, not answering for a moment.

"Your generation is lucky to have had the support of SOLDIER, no matter how things turned out with them. Before ShinRa had the visible power, it had the unseen threats. While we may not have been able to knock down houses, there is something to be said for certain other fears, as you well know. And, I never 'left' the company because of any moral obligations."

Finding what he needed, he stepped towards the other again, wincing as the he tensed. He wasn't broken, but he was cracked, and it could take quite some time to fill that crack, if it was even possible to do so. He took hold of Tseng's upper arms and slowly lowered him to lay on his stomach, showing him what was in his hand before he did so. Then he popped the lid to the potion and poured it over the other's abused hole before pushing the top in and filling him as well.

Tseng had the odd sensation of potion directly against skin for the first time, never having had the need to use it other than orally; he had materia for the severe wounds. He wasn't entirely certain if it was even safe to put it in _that_ way, but he trusted Valentine not to cause him any more harm, oddly enough. He understood the point of the…attack; the ex-Turk had what he wanted now, and there was no reason to poison the Wutainese man and risk retaliation by his subordinates or a realization by the engineer.

"You'll want to have that looked at, but for the moment you should be fine. Now leave before Reeve returns." Tseng couldn't help the slight twitch of his lips at the cold tone.

As a fellow Turk, and Valentine could be thought of as nothing but a Turk now, he understood that voice. The man had done what he felt needed to be done, and he wouldn't try to take it back, but he would feel guilty. Tseng would use that guilt against him one day.

Looking towards the other as he slowly pulled up his pants, he could see that Valentine knew so as well, complete understanding passing between the two similar men. The cloaked individual nodded at the unspoken assertion; he'd keep Reeve, but in return Tseng would get a man that he could call upon any time for any reason, a hero known the world-over.

He tried not to think about whether he wouldn't have preferred the soft-spoken engineer. Things couldn't be changed regardless, and besides, he was ShinRa's most devoted employee. What could be better than gaining the elusive Valentine as an unseen asset to the company?

Tseng suddenly knew without a doubt that he was going to go home and cry in the shower.

Emptying his pockets, what was left of them anyway, the younger man threw the ruined jacket at the other harshly. Slipping the objects in his trousers, most importantly his phone, he arrogantly stated, "You'll be replacing that, of course." Not waiting for a response, wanting to get home before his newly reconstructed mask crumbled, he quickly marched out the door and down the hall.

Vincent eyed the jacket in his hand, then the blood on the coach, and sighed. He stashed the ripped cloth into his own cloak and went to the kitchen to grab a knife. Without a second thought, he slashed the back of his leg and went to sit directly on the new stain, not fearing any sort of blood-transmitted disease. Hojo had seen to the extermination of such "weak, human" threats towards him.

By the time Reeve returned home an hour later, late from an extensive WRO project he'd been working on, he already had everything set in his mind. The engineer didn't question that he'd come over to rest after a rather bad fight with a summon, didn't even bother to ask who had cast it in the first place. Vincent was honest and honorable after all, no need to scrutinize his actions.

And when Tseng called just before bedtime and told the bearded man that he was afraid he'd have to end their relationship in favor of concentrating more on his job, the normally brilliant man didn't think twice about how convenient it was that the Wutainese man hadn't come over at the same time Vincent had. What a disaster that would have been.

**EPILOGUE**

Tseng rubbed his eyes tiredly, Rufus was going to be the death of him one of these days, and not the honorable death of a Turk protecting his charge. No, one of these days he was just going to draw his pistol, put it to his head and be done with it.

Leviathan! The man wanted to allow a reporter to wander about the compound as he or she pleased, interviewing any and all in his or her path. No question was to be denied, no place kept hidden, no secrets. At least, that was going to be the idea behind the proposed ShinRa Special Report; Rufus' grand plan to revive the ShinRa name and hopefully gain a bit of the world's trust back. Of course, they weren't really going to leave no stone unturned, and that gave Tseng the wonderful job of trying to figure out how to give everything away while giving nothing. He sighed dejectedly; he should just give in to the President's request that he take some time off and leave it all to Reno. He winced as he imagined the horror he'd return to. The redhead was capable, that was why he was Vice Director in the first place, but he was, well, Reno.

Glancing back at his table mate, he pointedly ignored the concerned look sent his way. The same look he'd been getting every day for the past two months, ever since his…ordeal. He hadn't told anyone what had transpired the night he'd spontaneously broken up with the engineer. A man he could have truly grown to love if not for…it was best he didn't delve into such thoughts.

He hadn't told anyone, though he could tell Reno had his suspicions. The damn brat was just too bright sometimes, his own experiences with the violence of the slums not helping the matter. Rufus wasn't far behind, knowing something had occurred, but having enough respect for his subordinate not to ask questions Tseng would be forced to answer. Instead, he waited for the day the Wutainese man would tell him what had truly transpired, and perhaps that day would come after all, despite Tseng's determination not to tell a living soul. He felt that Rufus at least deserved an explanation as to why he'd suddenly been "dumped" two days after Reeve, Tseng cutting off all physical contact with the controlling blond.

For the moment, though, he chose not to say anything. As far as he could tell, it wasn't affecting his work. He just startled a little more easily than normal; his secretary would get over the shock of having a gun shoved in his face for no other reason than sneaking in to give his boss his morning coffee. He wasn't suicidal; he didn't even lose sleep over it at night. So what if he no longer capable of gaining an erection and he felt unnecessarily stressed all the time? And, he was certain Strife would get over the perceived insult when he refused to be in the room alone with him; surely he wasn't the only person on the Planet fearful of a man whom it was physically impossible to defend oneself from, should things turn sour.

Gaia, he was ripping apart at the seams.

Frightened blue eyes flashed in his mind, reminding him that he wasn't the only member of the organization to have ever been forced in such a way. Anyone with proper training could become a Turk, but it was only those individuals with a truly fucked up past that were able to stand the day-to-day tasks associated with the job. Such as a man who was so unbelievably grateful to be given a second chance, he'd drop a plate on his own sector without a second thought. A former slum "pet."

While Tseng preferred not to liken himself to a "pet," no matter how Rufus treated his Turks at times, he figured it was close enough. He'd speak to Reno about _it_ later. The redhead wouldn't ask for names or details, knowing himself the humiliation at having to relive one's worst experiences. He'd probably realize quickly just who the unnamed assailant was and then all hell would break loose. Tseng would tell him after the live broadcast, just in case.

For the moment, he was content to lie to those around him, and, more importantly, himself. It was a Turk thing.

_AN: Weeeell, this was an odd little scene that came to me one day that I developed into a side-fic for my story "The Scoop" (title subject to change) which isn't published yet (still being written & edited). It started out as a quirky "who is seme" kinda fic in which there develops a Vincent/Tseng/Reeve pairing. However, it clearly took a turn in the other direction & now I have to rewrite some of "The Scoop" to fit the now unhappy past, which I like too much to attempt the planned happy one. _

_Let me know what you think; I've never written angst before. BTW, what color are Tseng's eyes? Brown, right?_

_Posted 4/16/10_


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